Call Me Reggie
by Weedkiller Biscuit
Summary: I think the reason you’re always hanging around Bella is ‘cos secretly you think she’s fit - Regulus isn't insane, or at least that's what he keeps telling himself.


**Call Me Reggie**

_Call me Reggie, all my friends do._

Why would you say that? You don't have any.

_I do! _

Admit it, Regulus, you don't have any friends. In seven years, you haven't managed to move past polite chitchat.

_I can do more than chitchat. I spoke with Bella for twenty-three minutes yesterday._

Bella is your cousin. Your **cousin**.

_So? At least I wasn't speaking with __**you**__._

You are now. You just can't seem to keep away, can you, **Reggie**.

_I wish you wouldn't do that._

I'm not going to stop. What are you doing, anyway?

_Homework. You should know, you're doing it too_.

I wouldn't be spending my Saturday nights doing homework.

_And yet, here you are._

I'm only keeping you company… hey! That's not homework!

_Oh, so good of you to notice._

I didn't know you drew, Reggie.

_After all this time, you still hadn't picked up on that? Show's how observant you are. _

Gee thanks, Reggie, are you always such a sweetheart? What's it of, anyway?

_You._

You should be embarrassed saying stuff like that to a guy.

_You're the one thinking something weird, pervert._

Who's the pervert? You are, Reggie. I know you are. I think the reason you're always hanging around Bella is 'cos secretly you think she's fit.

_You were the one watching her yesterday, not me_.

I wasn't watching her.

_You were! I saw!_

It doesn't matter, anyway! Forget about it and go back to your scribbles.

_Scribbles?_

Yes, the scribblings of a madman.

_Merlin, talking to you makes me wonder if I am_.

You love me, anyway.

_I do_.

Don't say it like that, it's disgusting.

_I mean it._

I wish you didn't.

_You don't love me?_

I… this isn't the time, Reggie.

_You do._

Don't sound so smug, loverboy.

_Now that is disgusting._

You liked it.

_Not as much as you did._

Maybe. I will neither confirm nor deny.

_You're too slippery. Nobody knows what you're thinking._

I **was** sorted into Slytherin, wasn't I? And besides, you always know what I'm thinking.

_That's different. You know it's different._

I know. I wish you wouldn't remind me, though.

_You never want to be reminded. I want to talk about this!_

Leave it, Reggie. There's no point. Look, maybe I should go.

_You can't._

I know. I **know**, ok? Can't we just… I don't know. I don't want to think about this right now.

_I… fine. We need to talk about us, though._

We? Us? Shit – **shit**, Reggie, you promised you wouldn't!

_How can I not? You just don't want to acknowledge what's happening!_

Because it's **insane**. You're mad, Reggie. You should be locked up. This is sick, sick and wrong.

_You think I'm sick?_

Yes! I mean, listen, you're just having some kind of crisis, some identity issues. This will disappear one day.

_It won't. I won't let it_.

**That's **why you're sick, Reggie.

_Why are you saying this? Do you want us to stop?_

You can't keep thinking of **us**, Reggie. Get it, already!

_Nobody else would know!_

Somebody would find ou–

"Regulus? You in there?"

"In here, Cissy."

"Aunt Walpurga is looking for you… oh! Can I see?"

Don't let her see.

"I… sure. It's not very good."

"No, it's brilliant. It's really good, Regulus. Can I have it?"

"Huh? Why would you want it?"

"It's so lifelike! Why wouldn't I want my very own cousin Regulus taped to my wall?"

"I don't – what?"

"It's a self-portrait, isn't it? I mean, it's so obviously you. Unless you were trying to draw Sirius, because you completely got it wrong if you were."

"I – no, no, it's me."

"I can see that, silly! Anyway, your mother is looking for you."

Look what you've done.

_I… I wish that kind of thing wouldn't happen._

I told you, there's something wrong with you.

_Something wrong with __**us**__._

No, something wrong with **you**. I'm not the one talking to myself.

_You're a liar, Regulus._

Not as much of a one as you are, Reggie.

* * *

Hmm... well, that's done. I'm not frankly sure where I came up with this... I wanted to write a story about all the Black children. Maybe I'll do a collection of short stories. They probably won't all be the DID ramblings of a nutjob, though. And perhaps they will be a tad less flow-of-concious. Unless that works. Thoughts, anyone?


End file.
